Quiesetis
by aku-neko
Summary: 7th year. Hermione has had dreams involving a guy. Though she can't remember them, the relationship between them grows once school starts. GryfSly
1. King's Crossing

**10/3/03**

  


Vials?

Check.

Partner?

"Get back her you stupid cat!"

Check.

            I sighed slightly, stepping down onto the platform. My mind had been on other things throughout the entire train ride to King's Crossing, but the dominant thought was over the summer assignment regarding potions.

_"For those of you returning to for Advanced Potions, keep in mind that we'll be working with Professor Vector's Advanced __Arithmancy class," Snape informed the class. His sneer at what he had just said obviously told his students of his opinion on the matter. As the students began to whisper at the news, he narrowed his eyes and barked at them to quiet down._

_"From what I've been told, Professor Vector has uncovered several manuscripts. Her class will translate them_ _and would like for us to brew the potions. Each of you will be paired up with someone from her class. You'll each have to start with a potion and continue researching it over the course of the summer. Keep in mind that each manuscript is different."  _

_Excited murmurs were heard throughout the class, but one look from Snape had them quiet instantly._

_"Your reports will be do the first week of school. Your mark will depend on the quality of work done by you and your partner. Dismissed!" he said striding over to his storage closet, with his robes billowing imposingly.  _

            What a surprise when I found that I'd be paired up with _her_. But the gods must have smiled down on me, for our meetings on the last week of 6th year were brief and done in silence: she writing down the translation and myself brewing the potion.

            My right index finger throbbed dully from the cut I received from my quill as I'd rummaged through my truck, searching for the vial. It was getting on my nerves, but out of sheer laziness I didn't heal it. Putting my trucks on a trolley, I saw her finally catch her mangy cat by the scruff of its neck and shoving him into his carrier. Walking over to her, with the trolley, I reached her as she wearily started to push her trolley.

            "Here," I said handing her the vial. 

At her confused look, I answered annoyed, "Our assignment."

She reached out the take it, saying thank you or something.

"Watch out, trolleys!"

I didn't see the trolley until after it had hit her from the side. Reflexively, I reached out to stop her fall, but amazingly ended up falling with her as another trolley sideswiped me from behind. I opened my eyes grimacing at the event that took place. It was then that I noticed that she was atop of me. Quickly, I sat up, causing her to fall on my lap; much to my chagrin. Feeling something wet on my right hand, I looked down to see the broken remains of the vial and its contents.

"Great just bloody great!" she exclaimed.

Getting of me, I noticed that her left hand was slowly dripping with the remnants of the potion. Wiping her had on the side of her "jeans," she assessed the damage.

"The potion! What are we going to do? We don't have ano-"

"_We _aren't going to do anything," I said interrupting her tirade. Seeing that she was about to exclaim about something or another, I held my hand up, "You silly bint, did you honestly I'd entrust you with anything having to do with my grades?"

"Are you saying that I'm irresponsible?"

"No," I said with something akin to aghast, "I insinuated. Honestly, one would think that the class prefect would know the difference."

She stood there fuming. Her mouth was moving but no sound was being emitted. 

"If you're trying to imitate a fish, I'd give you a seven, but since you're _you_, I'm going to give you a four."

"If you say one more thi-"

"Look, I haven't the time for idle chit-chat, I'm a busy man," I said as I opened one of my trunks. Finding the item, I handed her a small mahogany box.

As she stood dumb struck, I started to push my trolley towards my chauffeur.

"Wait! What is it?"

"I thought I told you I wouldn't trust you with anything to do with my grades," I said rolling my eyes.

"Oh," she said as she realized what the box contained.

"Ahh, nice to see that your mind is with us today," I responded sarcastically. Walking to my chauffeur again, I couldn't resist but saying one more thing:

"By the way, have a nice summer, Hermione."

With that, I got in and did not give her a second thought.


	2. Home, Sweet Home

  


Thinking back on what occurred at King's Crossing, this morning, I still couldn't make heads or tails on what was going through that bloody git's head. We'd pretty much been ignoring each other since the summer of two years ago. It was mutually understood that what occurred then would never be repeated and that hormones had a lot to do with it. I chuckled silently as I realized that my previous thought seemed really naughty. It was only a kiss, all right, several kisses. Several raw, passionate kisses, but that was all. Who'd have thought my, Hermione Granger's first kiss, _kisses_, would have been with him?

            Shrugging at my own question, I then pushed all thoughts of him away as I put on my black, hooded sweater and stepped out onto my balcony. It was a chilly Friday afternoon, the wind played with the wind chimes by the sliding doors. Deciding it was a good time as any, I went back inside my room. I grabbed my keys and small black messenger bag before heading downstairs.

            "Going out, back later," I called out Crookshanks. What can I say? It's a habit I suppose.

            Pulling my hood up, I stuck my hands in my pockets and headed towards the promenade. Arriving there, I made a beeline straight towards the bookstore.  Opening the door, the tinker of a bell announced my presence, in the empty store.

            "Hermione, to what do I owe this unexpected, yet welcomed surprise?" a warm voice asked.

            "Hey, Tony," I responded, looking for my friend, "I just got back from school, and I thought you could use some company."

            "You thought right," he responded smiling as he emerged from the backroom. His broad smile and warm brown eyes made me feel instantly happy. I ran over to him and hugged him. Pulling back, I realized that something was different as I looked up at him.

            "Your hair, what did you do to your hair?" I cried.

            "I cut it," he said nonchalantly, running a hand through his hair.

            "Yea, I can see that," I murmured.

            Tony, for as long as I could remember, had his hair long enough to tie it back in a small ponytail. His black wavy hair was something that I'd secretly envied. Now, it was short, and a bit spiked up. He now reminded me of one of those Abercombie-and-whatnot models.

            "How was your birthday?" I asked suddenly, " I really wanted to attend, but with school and all…"

            "It was great!" he responded, "We partied 'til sunrise at a posh club down in London. Not a bad 21st birthday bash, if I do say so myself."

            "Did you get my present?"

            "Yea, I was meaning to ask you where you got the spliff? I mean, aren't you in boarding school?"

            I couldn't help but give a wicked grin.

            "Tony, in all the years you've known me, haven't you figured out that I always find a way, without getting caught? Honestly, one would think we just met!"

            We spent the next several hours catching up. I found out that he'd finally asked the bird that he'd had the biggest crush on for the past year, Eliza. They were a serious couple now. At hearing that, I couldn't help but feel a twig of jealousy, but it quickly passed.

            When I was younger, before I received the letter that would change my life, I had a schoolgirl crush on Tony. I figure that his Spanish ancestry drew me to him, but it was his love of books that made me mad for him. He showed me the wonders that books contained and he sparked in me the hunger for knowledge. Even before I began Hogwarts, Tony had become my closest confidant. He'd always looked after me whenever there were problems at home (it is because of this that I feel extreme remorse in not telling him about the wizarding world and my being a witch. I want him to live a life without any worry about Voldemort). To the public eye, I have loving and understanding parents; in reality, I've got distant parents. My mother was never really close to me growing up; she always found excuses to leave me. My father loved my mother so much that he agreed to whatever she decided to do. It was because of their enthusiasm when I got accepted to Hogwarts, that I decided to do my best in school, so that they could both be proud of me. So far, I hadn't succeeded in getting their approval.

            "All right, I'm going to close shop, would you like to purchase anything?"

"Always the businessman, I see," I said laughing, "Just get me a bookmark."

"You know I work on commission, how am I going to make money off of bookmarks?" he whined.

"Tell it to someone who cares, now ring me up!"

As he grumbled about the injustices that he experienced with me while ringing up my purchase, I pulled out the notes. Paying for my purchase with an oh-so innocent smile, I waited for my change.

"Here's your change ma'am. Thank you for your business, hope to see again."

"Oh, god. Shut up!" I groaned receiving my change.

"What happened to your hand?" he asked suddenly.

"What are-"

"Your left hand," he said reaching over to it, "You've got a bad looking scratch there."

"Its nothing, Crookshanks scratched me when I grabbed him this morning at the train station," I said shrugging my shoulders, "In all the commotion, I guess I didn't notice it."

"What happened?"

"You wouldn't believe it. As I was putting my luggage on a trolley, a friend named Neville tripped over who knows what and knocked over the carrier. I had to chase that mangy cat, screaming like a bloody banshee!"

Both laughing, we began to close the shop. As we left the store, the sun was already setting, and the first starts could be seen overhead. We walked home in comfortable silence with his arm slung over my shoulder.

"What are you doing later?" I asked as we passed his house.

"I'm going to pick up Eliza and head over to a club."

"Nice. What time are you going to head over to her house?"

"Said I'd pick her up at seven."

"Well, in that case," I said stopping to look at my wristwatch, "you've got forty-five minutes and counting."

"What?" he asked panicked, "Smeg! I'm going to be late!"

"Smeghead," I snickered, "Listen, go home, change, do what you must. I'll go home by myself."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm a big girl, don't worry about me. Now go and have fun. I'll see you tomorrow."

"All right then," he said giving me a kiss on the cheek before leaving, "See you tomorrow."

I pulled on my hood and began my trek home. _Honestly, when will guys learn to be on time?_ The opening and closing of the front door was the only sound in the house when I arrived home.  I went to the kitchen, all the while looking for my parents. No one. I opened the refrigerator, looking for food. Nothing. I guess they forgot to go shopping. It's not surprising that they'd forget something as small as that if they'd forgotten to pick me up at the station.

Sighing, I went to the pantry. I did manage to find a can of peaches, but no can opener. I was oh-so tempted to use my wand, but I would not risk my Head Girl status on a stupid can. With my stomach grumbling loudly, I went over the telephone. Under normal circumstance I would never do what I was about to do; I hate the stuff. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

"Hello, thank you for calling Perfect Pizza…"

It was almost ten when I went to bed. I'd left the leftover pizza in the refrigerator and gotten ready for sleep. Pulling the covers around me, I felt Crookshanks settle down on the foot of the bed. It wasn't long before sleep enveloped me.


	3. First Encounter

CH. 3

  


Pushing away the weight that I felt my chest, I heard the crackling of wood and felt my face warm. As I opened my eyes, I saw the flickering flames of a fire, burning in a large fireplace. I gingerly stretched my arms as I say up. Retying my long hair up in a ponytail, I took note of my surroundings. From what I could tell, I was in some sort of den, and a beautiful stone walled one at that.

The only light sources came from the fireplace, several sconces and a large window. To the left of me, an entire wall was filled with volumes of books. On the opposite side, there was a chess table with two chairs. The moonlight entering from the window, which over looks them, cast an eerie glow on them. Behind me, there was a wooden desk with two chairs along side it. Above it, there was a map of Europe, with several black pins dotting it.

It was then that I noticed that I was sitting in a large black sofa and that I was not alone as I felt movement behind me. Looking down, I saw a body, a half-naked male body. I stifled a scream as I scrambled to stand up. I quickly checked myself to see if anything was a miss. Nothing was. I was fully clothed in my black sleeveless tank top and red flannel pajama pants. My mind was on overdrive, trying to find out where I was, how I got here, and who _that_ was.

"Get back here, I'm getting cold," he mumbled reaching for me, still asleep.

Deciding to get to the bottom of things, I grabbed his arm and pulled. I succeeded in tumbling down, with him atop of me. Opening my eyes, I met angry bright silver eyes.

"Get off of me!" I yelled, trying pitifully to push him off. My mind faintly recognized there was something different with my voice, but I really didn't care at this point. He complied and we both stood several feet apart, looking at each other warily. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a toned upper body. His hair was light brown, and the cut reminded me of Tony's hair. There was something about his strange-hued eyes that seemed familiar.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"The same could be asked of you," I retorted in a slightly husky voice. _Was that my voice?_

"Answer me, bitch!" he shot back.

I narrowed my eyes at his remark and remained silent. He took a menacing set towards me, all the while reaching towards the waistband of his black silk pajama pants, never once breaking eye contact. I stood my ground, hand going to the waist of my pants as well. We both faltered as our hands came up empty. _What was I reaching for?_

"If you must now, my name is," I paused, not for dramatic effect, but for a valid reason. _Name, name, what's my damn bloody name?_

"Well?"

"I don't know," 

"How believable," he sneered.

I blinked and tiled my head slightly. Faint recognition sparked in my eyes.

"Wait, don't we know each other?"

"It's unlikely. I would remember someone with golden eyes."

"Are you mad? My eyes are brown."

He looked around the room. He then reached towards something on the mantle. Handing it to me, I took it carefully. A mirror. Giving him a confused look, he sighed.

"Look at it."

I gasped softly at what I saw. Two golden eyes stared back at me. My face was also different. It had a slightly more mature look, making me look more like my age. For the past two years, my face had still maintained look of a fourteen year old, something that I never liked. _Really?_ I sat down on the couch, mirror on my lap, with a dazed look on my face. He stood in front of me, with his arms crossed, apparently waiting for something.

"What?" I snapped.

"You haven't answered my question."

"What the hell are you talking about you bloody git?"

"Who. Are. You?" he enunciated slowly, menace dripping from every word.

"I thought I told you that I don't know."

"and you expect me to believe you?"

"Well, yes," I replied narrowing my eyes, " and for that matter, why don't you get off your white horse and tell me who _you_ are?"

He curled his lip into an insufferable smirk. _Where have I seen that before?_ He opened his mouth, but closed it suddenly. His brows furled in concentration.

"I can't remember my name," he said finally.

I raised a skeptical eyebrow at him, a faint smile tugging on my lip.

"Shut up," he mumbled.

He took a seat next to me, and we sat in an awkward silence.

"So," he said, breaking the silence after several minutes, " are you a virgin?"

I blinked.

"Um…did you just ask me whether or not I am a virgin?"

"Yes," was his blunt reply.

"What kind of bloody question is that?" I exclaimed outraged. I could feel my face start to flush from anger and embarrassment.

"Do you make a habit out of asking people personal questions like that?"

"No," he replied calmly, "but do you make it a habit of answering simple questions with a question, all the while screaming like a banshee?"

"Are you saying that I make emotional outbursts?"

"By Jove, the girl's got it!" he congratulated mockingly.

I opened and closed my mouth in silent rage.

"Say something or close your mouth. Geez, you look like a stupid fish. However, if that is the look you're going for," he said, "I'd give you a seven, but since I don't like you, I'm going to give you a four."

I closed my mouth, and eyes, took a deep breath and relaxed my body. I maintained this position for a while. Of course, it was only for a while.

SLAP

I slapped him upside the head hard. Feeling better, I leaned all the way back onto the sofa and opened my eyes. I was rewarded with a shocked look upon his face. I couldn't help but snort.

"Well, doesn't someone look like a stuffed fish?"

His face instantly turned into a scowl.

"Aw, is the little baby upset?" I asked in mock concern.

He just glowered at me.

"Oh, honestly quit looking so affronted," I responded, hitting him lightly on the shoulder.

"Shut up," was his sulky reply.

I stood up and began to explore the room. It was…exactly like I had first observed. There was no door, so I went to the window. It was a breath-taking site to behold. As far as one could see, there was a thick forest surrounding the place. The structure itself was built upon a precipice high enough that allowed the occupants to see just above the treeline. Even though I was enraptured by the view, I could feel his eyes on me; I vexed me. Turning around, I found him stretched languidly across the sofa.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"Uh-huh, I can see that. May I ask why?"

"Oh, because I don't feel it is necessary to do anything."

"Let me get this straight. You find yourself awake in a strange room, along with a stranger and with said stranger, you don't have a clue onto who you are and you _don't_ feeling like finding out why?"

"Its not like I'm not curious, oh, I'm far from it but-"

"But? What the hell is that?"

"Don't interrupt me, its not polite."

I clenched my teeth.

"As I was saying, I find it much more intriguing to vex you," he responded smugly, "besides, why should I help someone that is extremely rude?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"First of, you haven't the ability to have a civil conversation with someone, but most importantly, you haven't answered my question."

"I thought I told you I don't remember."

"No, no, you silly bird, not that question. I do believe that we both reached an impasse on that particular inquiry. I'm referring to the _other _one."

"You actually want me to answer that?" I asked incredulously, "If I can't remember who I am, what makes you think I'll-"

Even as I said that, I knew that in fact I was. I also knew that I'd been kissed before; something that made me grin every time I remembered. _Oh yes, how could I forget that?_

"Yes, you were saying?"

"Quiet, I'm remembering," I replied furrowing my brows in concentration.

The kiss was received in a…a… 

"Train compartment!" I exclaimed, sitting up straight suddenly. My eyes widened, and I could feel a goofy grin upon my lips.

"What the devil are you raving about, you daft bird?"

"My first kiss! I received it in an empty train compartment," I replied, "I don't remember with who it was, but…we were on our way to the station, going home for summer break."

He regarded my for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders before leaning back. After staring a the high ceiling for several seconds he spoke:

"You still haven't answered me…"

"Fine, if you must know, I _am _a virgin."

He looked at me with a clear yeah-right look.

"When I remembered my kiss, I also remembered that," I replied calmly, "Now, that that is out of the way, why did you ask that in the first place?"

"I was think of a name for you, and based upon what I've seen of you and your answer, I have an idea."

"That is totally biased, however what were the names?"

"I'm stuck between Janet and Katherina"

"Why those names?"

"Janet because I remember seeing a musical in which a recently engaged couple by the name of Brad and Janet have to spend the night at this bisexual mad scientist's house; who just so happens to be a transvestite as well. See, Janet is a smart girl, shy and has your average girl next door charm about her, however, towards the end, she becomes this wild thing," he said wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, "and Katherina because in the playwrite's creation, she was a, intelligent and fiery shrew. Just like you."

"Hm…" I said as I processed his response.

"Well, which would you prefer?"

"I think I'll have to go with Katherina. Even though I loved that musical, I prefer the play." 

_They were both great productions._

"Fine, Katherina it is."

Silence.

"Well, seeing as that I've come up with a name for you, I see it only fitting that you do the same for me."

"What a gentleman," I responded sarcastically.

"What else would you expect from a-" he frowned, "Its like my name is on the tip of my tongue, but it won't come out."

"Tell me, what do you think of yourself?"

"Pardon?"

"In your own words, describe yourself."

"Hm…well, I am a bit of a bad-ass, though I find myself misunderstood. Hey, don't give me that look, its true. I find it extremely frustrating that I can't distance myself from my past. People don't seem or rather don't _want_ to understand, that even though I was raised in with certain beliefs, doesn't mean that I believe them. To many I am what I am. However, the attitude I've taken I see as a form of a blessing as well."

"Why?"

"_Why_?" he asked incredulously, "Its with the bad-boy persona that I've got girls flocking to me. I exude a devil-may care and screw-authority attitude; besides what girl does not want a bad-boy?"

"You are such an ass," I said laughing, "You know, you remind me of some people."

"Really?"

"Billy, James, Narcissus, and Adonis."

"Why them?"

"Well, Billy because you've got the whole 'screw authority' attitude and sneering down pat. James, 'cause well, he _is_ the Rebel. I think the other two are self explanatory."

"But, Narcissus?" he asked somewhat petulantly, "I don't stare at my reflection at every chance I get." 

"All right fine, forget that option. Now choose."

"I'll take…"

  
  


  
AN: oh, cliffhanger   O.O

Review!!!

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	4. Family Ties

Ch. 4

  
It is now 5:15 am. Today will be a sunny cloudless day. With a high of… 

Hiss!

I opened my eyes to see Crookshanks swatting my digital alarm clock. I rose slowly, yawning as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. I turned off the alarm and scratched Crookshanks between the ears before I stood up. Heading off to the bathroom, I took a quick shower and brushed my teeth. Seeing that it was still early, I changed back into my pajamas.

Arriving at the kitchen, I realized two things then 1) My parents weren't home yet and 2) There was still nothing to eat. I groaned at the latter realization as I stood before the opened refrigerator. _I am not going to touch that! _Five minutes later I was sitting down by the counter eating cold pizza. I went to my parent's bedroom to see if they had at least left a note, but when I opened the door, I was surprised. All of my mother's belongings were gone, her clothes, jewelry, scrapbooks, everything. Some of my dad's belongings were also missing, but the majority was still there. The suitcases were all missing as well.

Sighing, I went to the telephone.

" 'lo?" a groggy voice answered after the sixth ring.

"Tony, hey."

"Hermione? Its…5:48 in the morning, why are you calling this early?"

"Tony, can I come over?" I managed to ask without crying, yet I could hear my voice quivering.

Silence.

"Yea."

" 'k."

Hanging up, I changed into a light blue long sleeve sweater and khaki pants. Slipping on my white tennis shoes, I headed over to Tony's house with Crookshanks at my wake. Less than ten minutes later I stood outside his door. He opened it as I reached to ring the bell. He ushered me in after hugging me.

"So, you hungry?"

I grinned. As he prepared breakfast for us, I told him about my unfortunate luck the night before and that morning with food. As could be expected, he laughed at me.

"I had a peculiar dream last night," I said as we were eating.

"Oh, what was it about?" he asked genuinely curious.

"Hmm…" I frowned, " I can't remember the specifics, just that it was odd."

He chuckled as he lightly pushed me. We finished our meal in silence, enjoying each other's company.

"What happened?" he asked quietly as I washed the dishes.

Inwardly I groaned, but what else was I to expect?

"They weren't home."

"When did they leave?"

"Who know," I said shrugging my shoulders, "Days, weeks, maybe months ago."

"Wait, then how did you get home yesterday?"

"I waited at the station for nearly two hours before calling a cab," I responded, drying the dishes.

"Why don't you stay here with me?"

"No, I don't want to impose, besides I've got things to do."

He looked at me for a while before finally acquiescing. 

"You know you are always welcome here, right?"

I nodded.

"Good," he said placing an arm around me, "Be back."

He headed upstairs, and before I could ask what he was up to, I heard the shower running. While he showered, I helped clean the house. It was while cleaning his art supplies, that I accidentally spilled green paint on my sweater. _Damnit! _I knocked on the bathroom door and told him I was going to borrow a shirt. In his room, I found a small black polo shirt with a small Western style dragon over the left breast pocket. When he emerged, dressed in baggy blue jeans and a white muscle shirt, I modeled for him.

"What are you doing with a small polo shirt?" I asked him.

"That isn't mine."

"Oh."

"You can have it if you want it. Besides, I don't think I'd fit in it."

"Thank you. You know, I should head back, it's getting late."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, "its barely 8:00!"

I shrugged my shoulders in apology. I called Crookshanks but he couldn't be found. Sighing, I grabbed my stained sweater.

"Leave the sweater."

"Why?"

"I'm doing my laundry today. You can pick it up later today or tomorrow."

"Thanks!"

Tony walked me to the door, and gave me a kiss on my forehead as I left. I saw a silver Audi drive by but thought nothing of it. By the time I arrived home, it was 8:20 according to my wristwatch. As soon as I opened the door, a strong hand pulled me in and closed the door. I winced as the grip on my arm increased. The hand belonged to my father.

"Dad!" I exclaimed in both surprise and pain.

"Shut up."

He dragged me to the den and pushed me inside. He turned around to lock the door.

"Where were you and mom?" I asked rubbing my arm.

"I had to go to a convention, you mom is away."

"Oh."

"Now, where were you?"

"What do you mean?" I asked confused.

"Tell me, did you ditch school and come back early so that you could screw around with that boy?" he asked in low, but menacing tone.

"No," I replied, shaking me head, "I arrived yesterday at the station along with everyone else."

"Don't lie to me," he said approaching me.

"But it's the tru-"

I was nearly sent to the floor with the backslap he gave me.

"I told you not to lie to me," he replied calmly, the anger evident in his eyes, " I saw you leaving his house just now."

"I went to go see him this morning," I answered, holding a hand to my face.

"This early in the morning?" he asked, "What? Do you think I was born yesterday? Do you think me so-"

"Dad, no I-"

I was sent crashing into the bookcase as the result of another slap.

"You know I hate to be interrupted," he said coldly, " I know you spent the night at his house, doing God knows what."

Tears threatened to spill, but I forced them back. I shook my head to his accusations. He narrowed his eyes at me.

"No?"

I shook my head, not trusting my voice.

"So, you're calling me a liar, are you?"

My eyes widened in fear as he drew near. I grabbed a thick book and hurled it at him, hitting him in the chest. He looked down at where the book hit him and then at me.

"You'll pay for that."

What happened next was a blur. He threw me against the bookcase before I could escape and promptly began to hit me with the book I'd thrown at him. When he tired of that, he began to kick me. My father's attacks were too powerful, and all I could do was curl myself into a ball while he inflicted his damage. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally ceased his blows. I barely heard him walk away and unlock the door.

"I expect this place to be cleaned by the end of the hour, and that after this incident, you'll remember never to contradict me," he said, "Tell no one, or else I won't be so lenient next time.

I groaned as I managed to stand upon shaky legs. I leaned on the bookcase and touched the back of my head; I felt something warm. Blood. I tasted something metallic in my mouth, putting my fingers to it, I found more blood. I fought my feelings of nausea and dizziness as I began to clean up the mess my father had created. Somehow, afterwards, I managed to drag myself to my bedroom, where upon entering, I barely made it to my bed before passing out.

It read 10:32 p.m. on my alarm clock when I opened my eyes. I tried to sit up, but ended up crying in pain as I did. I could taste blood in my mouth and in doing so I remembered what happened. Gritting my teeth, I stood up. Taking slow and labored steps, I exited my room and then the house. Stepping outside to the cool night air, I noticed that my dad's car was not in the driveway, and began to walk. It took me almost half an hour to get to Tony's house. My arm felt as if it were attached to a hippogriff as I raised it to ring the doorbell. After what seemed like hours, I heard footsteps approaching the door. The unlocking of locks and opening of the door seemed like music to my ears.

"Hey, surprise!" I said giddily, not noticing it was a girl. I made my way inside and sat gingerly on the couch.

"What's going on?" I heard Tony ask.

"Don't know. I opened the door and found your friend standing outside," a female voice responded, "she just came in. She looks a mess."

I heard Tony approach me and upon seeing his startled face. I smiled.

"Hey you," I slurred.

"Hermione?" he gasped, "What the hell happened to you?"

"The hell…" he responded, " Eliza, call the doctor and tell them…"

"No!" I cried sitting up straight, before gasping out in pain and leaning back. As I did, I started coughing. Coughing out blood.

"What happened to you?" Eliza asked.

I shook me head slightly, looking down at the floor.

"It was your father, wasn't it?" Tony asked coldly.

I said nothing, avoiding eye contact with either of them.

"The bastard!" he exclaimed, "I'm calling the fuzz."

"Fine, you do that while I help clean her wounds," replied Eliza.

The next thing I knew, the police were there, asking questions. I then found myself on a stretcher and sent to the hospital. During the ambulance ride, I finally succumbed to the darkness that had been threatening to envelop me since I had woken up.

Once I came to, it was morning. I was lying in a hospital bed and my wounds were all dressed. My left arm was in a sling, my head was wrapped and I could feel my chest bound tightly. I let out a groan.

"Ah, I see you are finally awake," a strange voice said.

"Whose there? Show yourself!"

"Oh, a feisty one, eh?" said a young looking doctor, "Relax, I'm Dr. Scott. You're here at -"

"Right, when can I leave?"

"I have to run a few tests," he replied chuckling as he approached my bed. Sitting up it, he reached over to pat my hand, but I yanked it back.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"No, it is all right. Now," he said removing a pen light from his coat, "look at the light."

After the tests were run, I was released from intensive care and moved to a different ward that day. I learned from Dr. Scott that my ulna was broken in three places; I had a fracture in my humerous; five ribs were broken (one had punctured my lung); I had suffered a concussion; and my left femur had sustained substantial damage but had no fracture. He told me he had doubts that I would have survived had my friend delayed called the police. Later that afternoon, I gave the police my statement

 That evening, Tony and Eliza visited me.

"Hey, how are you doing?" Tony asked, concern evident in his brown eyes.

"Pretty good," I said smiling, "Check out these battle wounds."

"Don't joke like that," the both said with a grim expression on their faces.

"Why not?" I asked, "Humor is what's keeping me going right now."

Silence.

"So, you're Eliza."

"Yea," she responded.

"You know, Tony here has had a crush on you for…how long?"

We chuckled while Tony blushed slightly.

"Hey how was your date on Friday," I asked.

"It went great. Tony took me to this club, where we danced the night away. We got home around 3 in the morning."

"Oh, so that's why you were tired when I called you," I said to Tony.

We spent about an hour talking about our lives until Tony finally asked the one question I was dreading.

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit, Hermione. I've known you for most of your life. Don't lie to me."

I took a deep breath before recounting the events that I had told the police.

"When I got home, my dad grabbed me and dragged me to the den. He then started to accuse me of leaving school early so that I could be with you. You know…"

They both nodded at what I was referring to.

"I told him that I had arrived the day before along with everyone else from school. He called me a liar and slapped me. He then said he'd seen me leave your place that morning and proceeded to say that there was only one reason for me to be leaving that early. When I told him I was just visiting you, he slapped me again. I threw a book at him, and that's what did it for him. He threw me against the bookcase and began beating me with a book. Then he began kicking me."

Tony clenched his jaw in anger.

"Once he grew tired, I was told to clean up the den, know never to contradict him again and not tell anyone about what happened. After cleaning up, I went to my room and passed out. When I came to, I went to your place."

"The cops are looking for him," Tony told me.

"I know."

"Listen, we've got to go. We'll be back tomorrow."

"All right, I'll hold you both to that," I informed them as we hugged goodbye.

When they left I felt antsy; I could sit still. It was well past 3 am as I lay there watching television when I heard the door slowly open. A privacy curtain was between the door and the bed, thus blocking my view on who my visitor was. Hearing said person clear his throat, I imagined it to be Dr. Scott.

"Hey there Scottie," I called, "Are they paying you overtime?"

I heard a chuckle that froze my blood.

"Hermione, Hermione," he said patronizingly, coming into view dressed as a doctor, "I thought I made it clear that you weren't to tell anyone what happened."

"Dad," I said, shrinking back as far as I could.

"Didn't I also tell you that if you did, I wouldn't be so lenient next time?" he asked sitting on the edge of the bed.

"No, dad. Please don't," I begged.

"Too late for that, sweetheart."

With that, he slapped me hard across the face. I saw stars explode before my eyes as a result. In an effort to silence any noise, he placed a pillow over my face. I screamed as he pressed the pillow down harder. With my right hand I frantically began to claw at his hands, and then his face; he loosened his grip on the pillow as he cursed in pain. _The button!_ My brain screamed. I took a shallow breath as I fumbled to locate the panic button. I was barely able to press it, when he brought his hand down on my stomach. With my voice, hoarse from the yelling, I was barely able let out a pitiful cry help for help. Tears sprung to my eyes as he leaned onto my mending ribcage and slapped me. I thought my life was about to end when he began to strangle me.

Over the roaring sound in my ears I was able to faintly hear the hurried footfalls of people. _Must be some nurses_ my mind absentmindedly observed. The next thing I knew, I was able to take shallow breaths. Black dots swam before my eyes, but I could see several security guards restraining my father.

"Why?" I coughed.

"Shut up!" he yelled at me, "It was because of you that she left!"

"Mom?"

"That's right. You were an accident, you hear that?" he screamed, " I knew that much, but I wasn't until recently that she told me you weren't mine!"

"But-"

"You're a bastard! Why do you think she never wanted to do anything with you?"

"No, you're lying…"

"It was because you reminded her of her shame. With you around, it was as if she was permanently branded for life," he was near hysteria at this point, " When you got accepted to that school of yours, didn't you ever wonder why she was so eager about it?"

"We thought that if you were gone, I-We, could repair our marriage. It got to the point where she could no longer bear the sight of you that she left me in May. However, if you're gone, then she'll come back to me. We could be happy again."

He said the last bit as he was dragged away by the guards. The few nurses that remained looked shocked at what had just transpired. I felt my heart shatter but luckily, before any more pain was felt, my body gave into exhaustion.


	5. Solace

Ch. 5

To say that Hermione was not affected by what had transpired would be a blatant lie. She spent well over two weeks in the rehabilitation wing, during which she was not able to sleep at night, and became more reticent, and introverted ever since her first night at the hospital. During this time, she took to wandering the halls in her wheelchair at night; taking in the solace that the building provided. During the day, she threw herself into her rehabilitation therapy. Her leg, though not broken, could not support her weight for prolonged periods of time. Lara, Hermione's trainer, informed her that there was a very strong possibility that she'd never fully recover; limping in cold weather, and prevented from doing strenuous physical activity. Hermione didn't care, so long as that she'd be able to walk.

When she wasn't busy with therapy, she'd find herself thinking. Thoughts that ranged from her father, to Hogwarts, to the green Jell-O she had for lunch that day and finally to herself. She knew that she could never be the same girl. Too much had transpired. The one thing that Hermione didn't dwell on was the possibility that her life was a lie; she wouldn't let herself. Harry and Ron would inevitably notice the change in her demeanor if she did. _'They like Hermione Granger: brightest girl in all of Hogwarts_. _I doubt that they'd be crazy about Hermione Granger: depressed bastard,' _she thought. She knew that even though she couldn't be as she was before, she'd damn right have to try; if not for friends, then for herself, because she didn't want anyone to ask her about her change.

The day finally arrived when Hermione was finally released from the hospital. It was almost ten at night when she'd gotten inside the cab after bidding farewell to Dr. Scott and Lara. Once home, she truly grateful that her room was on the first floor because even if she no longer used a wheelchair, she still had to use a crutch. Lying down on her cool bed, she stayed that way for several hours, staring at the ceiling. Eventually, her eyes began to close of their own volition and for the first time in many weeks, feel asleep at night.

"Hey, wake up," a familiar voice urged.


	6. Senor Satan

Ch. 6

She groaned, rolling over away from the voice. No sooner than had she done so when a small cry came from her lips. Looking around, she found herself sprawled on the stone floor. Laughter was heard coming from the sofa, this made her scramble to her feet and face the laughing person.

"Oh, it's you," she said a bit sourly.

"Where have you been, Kat?" he asked once he contained his laughter.

"Kat?"

"Short for Katherina."

"Oh."

"So, where were you?"

"Hospital," she answered quickly.

"Are you all right?" 

"I suppose, but I can't remember why I was there."

She stretched her arms over her head in an attempt to brush off the stiffness that usually comes after waking abruptly from a deep slumber. As she did, she ended up wincing in pain; if her companion noticed, he didn't comment. She then proceeded to sit down next to him and look into the roaring fire.

"Hello?"

"What?" Kat asked startled.

"I asked you how it was possible for you to be in a hospital."

"I told you I don't remember why I was there," she responded frowning.

"No, no. Not that," he said shaking his head, "I meant how did you get out of here, if there is no way to leave."

"…"

"Doesn't it feel like more than a day has passed since we saw each other last?" he asked, "If I were a betting, man, which I am, I'd say that we're in some sort of a dreamworld."

"You know, that seems like a good possibility."

"What, you expected something stupid?" he asked raising an eyebrow.

Kat shook her head, smiling as she pushed him.

"Ow!" she cried softly, grabbing her left arm.

"What's wrong?"

"My arm, it feels really sore," she said massaging it gingerly.

"Here, give it," he said holding his hand out.

She warily gave him her tender arm, and let out a hiss as he began to massage it. Pretty soon, she found herself relaxing.

"Better?"

"Much. You've got amazing hands," Kat said honestly.

"Oh?" he asked, "That's odd…"

"What is?"

"A girl usually tells me that after I…" he left the sentence hanging, wiggling his eyebrows.

"You know," Kat said in a husky voice, moving closer to him, " I wouldn't be surprised."

She ran a finger down his chest and heard him hitch a breath.

"Do you know what I'm thinking?" she asked coyly.

"I have a good idea…"

"Really?" she asked again, brushing her hand down his arm.

"Yes."

"Let me tell you anyway," she said whispering in his ear, causing him to elicit a low growl, "You're a bloody pig."

She pulled away grinning from ear to ear at his shocked expression.

"I'll have you know that I'm not that easy."

He glowered at her.

"Oh my god, loosen up!"

They spent the rest of the time getting to know each other –or at least trying to, with the limited knowledge they had. It turned out that he had a good relationship with his mother throughout his life, and a strained one with is father up until his death. He was an only child, but that was not to say that his parents hadn't tried to have more children. He also attended a select boarding school near the Scottish border, where he had a small close-knit group of friends.

"Why was your relationship strained?" Kat couldn't help but ask.

"Well," he started, running a hand through his hair, "See, when I was younger, my father was great. You know, caring and devoted. However, as I grew up, I started to notice many things that I hadn't otherwise. For example, the way that he treated my mother. I never noticed the coldness between them as a child, nor the bruises that regularly appeared on my mothers face the following day whenever he came home late from work. I remember being ten when I asked my mother about these things and she sent me out yelling. However, the thing that I won't forget is the look of fear and surprise in her eyes when I asked her."

"That same day, I stupidly confronted my father about this. I was sent to the hospital after the beating that he gave me. When I returned home one week later, he lectured me on how I was never to question what he did, for any reason. Now, that isn't all. I know there is something else, but I can't remember."

"I see," was all that she could manage to say.

"Well, enough about me. Tell me about yourself."

"I too, have a strained relationship with my parents," Kat began albeit a bit uncomfortably after hearing his story, "I've always had the impression that I was an accident or at best a burden on them, but I've don't have such -" 

She stopped mid-sentence, staring of at some point beyond his shoulder. Getting a bit self-conscious, he nudged her softly.

"Are you all right?"

"Wha-?" she asked confused.

"You stopped talking suddenly and got a glazed look in your eyes."

"I saw some things that couldn't have been true," she said quietly. At his questioning gaze, she continued, "I saw myself at different points of my life, and in each one, my mother was always hitting me. Not spanking, but really beating me."

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"It's impossible because my mum never came near me unless absolutely necessary, let alone hit me."

He leaned back, and frowned in thought. He took a while to form his thoughts into words.

"I'm not a doctor, but do you think its possible that you might have repressed those traumatic events?"

"How-_ Why _would I suddenly be remembering them now?" she asked skeptically.

"It might have something to do with this place. Think about it, before you zoned out, you were saying something along the lines that although you had a strained relationship with your parents, they were pretty decent people. All of sudden, you saw that it wasn't so," he paused, rubbing his neck, "Am I making sense to you?"

"I think so," Kat replied quietly.

"So, anything else?" he asked.

"I've got three best friends, all of them guys," she said a bit distracted, "I also go to a boarding school, with two of the them, where we usually go on a whole bunch of adventures. I love to read, and have a very independent cat."

"All right, now that we've gotten that out of the way," he said, smiling, "How about we get _better_ acquainted with each other?"

Kat stared at him in shock, but before she could comment, he tapped the side of her head.

"Loosen up!" he said laughing, "I was joking!"

"Shut up," she said grinning, "Say, we never did decide on your name, did we?"

"I was thinking about that, and decided that neither name suited me."

"I was thinking the same thing," Kat said admitted, "There is much more to you than I'd first thought."

He grinned at her like a cat.

"Don't do that, it doesn't suit you," she said without thinking, "See, you seem like the kind of person that regardless of the actions you perform, you have an ulterior motive. Like whenever I open up to you, you are all sympathetic and whatnot, but in the end you are trying to get in my pants."

"Hey, that is-" he began to argue, but at her skeptical look, "Ok, you do have a point."

"Though so."

"So, what's your new suggestion?" he asked intrigued.

"Some think along the lines of Damien."

"I like it," he said, "I've always though of myself as Satan's spawn or minion."

"All right, then," she said straightening up.

"What?"

"My name is Katherina," she said extending her hand.

"My name is Damien," he replied smiling, shaking her hand.


	7. Mail, Boardgames, and Coconut Shrimp

 Ch 7

It was already the last day of August. The weather was still warm, and the sun was strong whenever it peaked out from behind the clouds. Summer was coming to an end; one could feel it in the air. Hermione say in her kitchen, holding a large coffee mug in her right hand, staring absentmindedly out the window at the rising sun. Before her, lay a sealed school letter. It had arrived the day before, delivered by a small brown owl. Since it had been received, it had laid on the counter untouched. She knew what it contained.

Hermione sighed softly before finishing her now lukewarm drink, the sun having cleared the horizon. The ginger colored cat meandered into the kitchen, rubbing against its mistress's legs. Hermione strode to the pantry and took out a can of wet cat food. Having opened the can and emptied the contents onto a saucer, she turned to find her cat sitting primly next to the letter.

"Get away from that," she chastised the feline, placing the saucer on the floor, "I've told you I won't open it."

The cat stared back with what could be guessed a _why?_ Look. However, it seemed to shrug off the matter entirely as it jumped to the floor, towards it's breakfast.

Having already received her letter regarding the materials she'd need for the following school year, she'd gone to Diagon Alley two days ago. She felt it necessary to get things done as quickly as possible. Not stopping to chat with friends and acquaintances about their summer, she did her shopping in relative silence. She enjoyed her solitude knowing that as soon as the school year started, she'd hardly have any of it for herself.

She went to her room to finish packing. Though most of her broken bones had healed, her upper body movements were still stiff, do mostly to her still tender ribs. She made a mental note to ask Madame Pomfrey about it. By the time Hermione had finished, it was 8:56 AM. Seeing as there was nothing else to do, she showered and changed. Deciding to veg out, she traipsed downstairs and turned on the television. The sound of the postman delivering the mail through the mail slot told her it was already past noon.

"Crookshanks!" she called, "Get the mail, please!"

The cat appeared almost instantly when it was called. However upon hearing what he was told to do, he hissed at her and walked away, obviously miffed at the situation. Groaning and muttering as she rose from the couch, Hermione went to retrieve the mail. _Trash, bill, trash, trash. Hmm…what's this? _A plain white envelope addressed to her. Her curiosity got the best of her and she opened it.

_Open the door._

Indecision gripped her, but eventually her curiosity once again won out. Grabbing an umbrella from the coat rack, she opened the door, ready to whack the possible assailant if necessary.

"Surprise!"

"Tony, Eliza," she said shocked, dropping her 'weapon,' "What are you two doing here? I mean, I thought you'd gone to the States for all of this month."

"Well, we were gong to stay a bit longer," Tony started.

"But I convinced him to come back early and see you off," Eliza finished.

For the first time that month, Hermione smiled. Her eyes began to tear up, but she blinked them away rapidly.

"You two are the best," she replied hugging them, "Now come in, and tell me about your trip."

And so, the three friends spent the entire evening talking and joking. Tony told his account on certain events that happened to Eliza, to which she denied them all, and in turn, revealing some embarrassing things that had occurred to Tony. At one point, Tony announced he was going to make dinner. He insisted he didn't need their help because of obvious reasons.

"Hermione, even though you top us all in the intelligence department, I know that you have been living off of frozen waffles ever since that we left because, let's face it, you can't work a toaster to save your life," he said seriously, "And you, Eliza, you can't even boil water either, so I wouldn't be laughing if I were you."

After being attacked by his female companions with various throw pillows, he stood up and reached for a backpack that Hermione had not noticed before. Heading over to the kitchen, he began to remove various plastic containers from the bag. 

"I thought you were going to cook," Hermione said leaning against the doorframe.

"I did."

"Emptying plastic containers on dinner plates does not count as cooking," she said in a-matter-of-fact voice.

"Well, like I said before," he said rolling his eyes, "You can't cook, and given that fact, I have a feeling that you don't have shit in your refrigerator or pantry."

"So?"

"I cooked before we got here," he said shrugging, "So, I in fact did slave over a hot stove."

Hermione laughed and moved back to the living room to keep Eliza company. Both girls agreed that when it came to working in the kitchen, Tony took the cake. He had a natural ability to create wondrous meals, and make everyone feel happy. Tony often entertained them by mimicking Jaime from the Naked Chef, the girl's favorite cooking show.

"Ladies, dinner is ready!" he called from the kitchen.

"Finally, I was thinking about just eating frozen waffles," Eliza said entering the kitchen.

"What?" Tony exclaimed, face frozen in mock horror, "And miss out on all of this?"

"Well, what are we having?" Hermione asked.

"We'll start of our meal with a fresh fruit salad, sprinkled with pomegranates," he said indicting to a colorful tray filled with mixed greens, orange wedges, papaya chunks, kiwi slices and pomegranate seeds.

"Then we'll move on to some coconut shrimp with peanut sauce," he said presenting a large tray filled with large fried coconut coated shrimp, alongside two dipping cups filled with the sauce.

"And finally, we'll have some peach Melba toast a la mode," he announced presenting 3 large dessert cups with a medley of fruit topped with vanilla ice cream.

After the dining, to which they all agreed was delicious and drinking, which consisted of orange soda, the trio began to play board games. From Scrabble to Clue, they spent hours having fun. It was well past ten o'clock when Tony and Eliza decided to leave. Bidding Hermione a good night, they reminded her that they'd pick her up and drive her to the station around eight.

"OK, goodnight you two," she said, waving after them at the door.

Smiling, she turned and closed the door. It had turned out to be a good day after all. Maybe this year won't be so hard, she thought. She slipped underneath her bed sheets, after changing and finishing her toiletries, and sighed in contentment. Staring up at the ceiling for a while, she became aware of Crookshanks jumping upon the bed. However, it wasn't until something grazed her right arm that she was brought back to reality. Crookshanks sat near her arm with the unopened envelope in his mouth, looking expectantly at her. Once he was sure that he got her attention, he dropped it on the bed.

"Fine, I'll open it," she said taking the letter. She sat up, leaning against the headboard. Opening the wax seal with ease, she unfolded the letter to which a silver trinket fell out. The full moon shone brightly, giving Hermione enough light to read the contents. Her eyes quickly skimmed the paper before she placed it and the trinket on her bedside table.

"Goodnight, Crookshanks," she said, rubbing him underneath his chin, "Sleep well, we have a busy day tomorrow."

Crookshanks remained sitting, looking down at the girl well after she fell asleep. It's luminous eyes held within them both pride and sympathy. He turned his head to look at the letter lying peacefully, before curling up in a comfortable position. The moonlight shone on, casting an eerie silver glow on the room; making the silver object, which lay over the letter, shine brightly. It was a simple pin with two words engraved in it: _Head Girl._


	8. Sexy Beast

Ch. 8   
  
  


"School starts tomorrow," complained Kat as she leaned against the edge of the table.

"Shush, can't you see it's my turn?" Damien replied, eyes never leaving the chessboard. He had his elbows on the table, fingers tented before his face. His eyes suddenly widened and a smirk graced his face before he moved his knight piece.

"Check," he said smugly.

"Are you even paying attention to what I'm saying?" Kat asked exasperated.

"Yea, something about school," he responded flippantly leaning back into his chair, "Now, move, it's your turn."

"If we don't finish this silly game, you and I won't be able to have a decent conversation, will we?"

"No, and must I remind you that chess isn't a 'silly' game?"

"No," she huffed before giving the board a quick look over. The corners of her mouth curled upward a tiny fraction before she moved her bishop into place.

"Checkmate."

"What?" he exclaimed, "How the hell is that possible?"

Kat leaned back into her chair and mimed one of his smirks. As Damien looked at the board one last time, he realized he committed a vital error sometime in the middle of the game.

"Stupid mistake," He looked up at her and found himself intrigued, "Smirking doesn't suit you."

"Oh and why is that?"

"Not unless it's the result of making me cry out your name in the troughs of passion," he said bluntly.

"My god," Kat said incredulously, "What is it with you and sex?"

"Well, what can I say? I am a sexy beast."

"I think I've told you this, but in case I haven't, let me tell you that-"

"That you want me to ravage you? Or-"

"No," Kat said rolling her eyes, "That you are the most arrogant, self-absorbed prick that I've ever met."

Damien smiled at her and winked at her comment.

"You know that you wouldn't want me any way else."

"That's true," she chuckled as she stood up and walked over to the window, "I hope we'll still be able to see each other."

"Me too," came his soft reply.

Ever since they'd met, they'd been seeing each other twice a week; specifically every Friday and Saturday night. Over the course of their meetings, they had become good friends. In the various meetings that they'd had, the two had been able to deduce that they were in fact, meeting in their dreams, but the cause for it still remained a mystery. It turned out that even though they could not recall certain information, such as names, other things could be easily recalled; like what they had for dinner and when school started. After their discovery, they had both enjoyed the amenities that the dream world provided. The reading material available provided much entertainment. They found several books that spoke of various concoctions made with fanciful ingredients; eye of newt, wormwood, unicorn hair, aphosphodel were some of them. 

The one thing in the room that both teens found peculiar was the large map of Europe. The countries with the most flags were Bulgaria and England and every time they met, more black flags appeared. Now and then blue flags would appear, but overall, the black flags were dominant. Eventually, Kat and Damien had come to ignore the map completely.

"What do you want to do now?" he asked.

Kat turned around and found him lying down on the sofa, looking up at her. Frowning in thought, she walked over to him. She sat on his stomach when he wouldn't move to let her sit.

"Oy!" he cried, "Get off of me you heifer!"

"What?" she asked in disbelief, "I am not a cow!"

"Can't breathe," he choked out, "Life…flashing…before…eyes!"

"Shut up," Kat responded, flicking him on his forehead.

"If you don't get up willingly, in the next three counts, I will be forced to take matters into my hands."

Kat looked at him expecting to find humor in his eyes. Instead, she was met with an impassive face and his eyes, which were usually sparkling, had turned into cold silver chips. His expression coursed a shiver to go down her spine. Recognition, anger and fear could be seen in her eyes.

"Three!"

Kat let out a yelp in surprise as she found herself lifted from her position by strong arms and placed on the backrest of the furniture; behind sticking up in the air. She felt the blood rushing to her head, but try as she might, she could not touch the floor. Damien was kneeling behind her, holding her legs firmly, and halting her movements.

"Pull me up!" she cried, squirming.

"And let you hit me again?" he asked, "Never! Besides, I believe it is high time that you got your just reward."

"For what?"

"Why for all those times that you've hit me of course," he replied.

"Don't you dare."

"Oh, but I do!"

"If you so much as- Ahh!" her retort was cut short as Damien landed three quick strikes on her posterior. After the initial surprise wore off, she found herself able to move. Scrambling down onto the floor, she quickly stood up. Kat felt her cheeks burning with anger and embarrassment as she turned toward her friend. Damien was still kneeling, clutching the backrest as he was beside himself with laughter.

"Nice to see that someone found that amusing," she said narrowing her eyes.

"That's right."

"Well then, goodbye and have a _wonderful_ school year," she said curtly before turning.

"You know you can't leave yet," he said.

Kat paused.

"The moon hasn't reached the ridge yet."

She stood indecisive on what to do.

In the time that they'd met, they found out that the position of the moon determined the time that they would stay together. Once the moon reached the far mountain ridge, they had the ability to awake at will.

"Listen, about what happened…I'm sorry," he said, "Besides, it isn't like it was completely my fault. I did after all warn you that I've be forced to do something if you didn't comply."

"I know," she said softly, "You must think of me as uptight, but-"

"Well, the thought did cross my mind several times…"

"Never mind, forget I said anything."

Damien stood and walked towards her, with bother annoyance and concern in his eyes.

"You can't begin to say something and then suddenly decide not to," he said, holding her shoulders, "Come on, pretty please?"

"When I was sitting on you and you told me to get off, there was something in your eyes," Kat finally said.

"What was it?" he insisted.

"I don't know!" she said finally, "but it caused me to momentarily…"

"What?"

"Listen, can't we just forget any of this happened?" she asked nervously, biting her lower lip, "How about another game of chess?"

Damien narrowed his eyes, seeing her fidget under his scrutiny. He could tell that she really didn't want to tell him, but didn't want to lie to him. Knowing that she'd tell him eventually, he decided to let the matter go, for the moment. Damien grinned at her and placed an arm around her shoulders, walking towards the chess table.

"I'll take you up on that offer, only if-"

"For the last time, I will not strip if you win!"

"Kat, will you please get you mind out of the gutter?" Damien asked, acting shocked, "I was going to say 'only if by forgetting everything that had happened does not include the slaps you got.'"

"Oh," she said blushing slightly, "Fine."

"Good," he said sitting down, "Now, let the game begin!" 


	9. Departure

AN: 

            I barely realized that I had made a mistake. I uploaded the wrong chapter eight. I have rectified my mistake, so I urge you to check out the previous chapter! Sorry about the inconvenience! ^^'

Ch. 9 

  
  
  


The station clock read 10:08 am when Hermione, Tony and Eliza arrived at King's Cross. The sky was partially cloudy and the air was cool. There was the usual hustle and bustle of people rushing in and out of the station. Hermione walked on the platform with her belongings on a trolley in the midst of all the commotion, dressed in khaki pants and a soft blue sweater. Tony and Eliza accompanied her.

"You guys don't have to do this you know."

"What, and miss the excitement of our little girl's first day of school?" asked Tony, with an arm around Eliza's waist. Both grinning like madmen.

"Yea, like I believe that," Hermione scoffed.

The trio was slowly but surely approaching platform 9, making one of them a bit nervous. Many possible scenarios ran through a said person's head; ones that would allow the other two become distracted long enough for her to go through the barrier. Alas, their destination was coming up and none of the scenarios seemed plausible.

"It's almost 10:30?" Tony exclaimed looking at his wristwatch, "Fu- uh, I mean damn. I'm going to be late for work!"

Both Eliza and Hermione looked at him with startled expressions on their faces. 

"Well, I guess this where we saw goodbye, I guess," said Eliza laughing, "Be good you here? I'll miss you."

"Me, too."

Eliza gave her a light hug, minding her ribs.

"Sorry," Tony said, stepping next to her. He hugged her as well, saying, "I'm gonna miss you."

"So am I," Hermione conceded smiling.

"All right, 'en," Tony said kissing her chastely on the lips like they always did every year at the start of each term.

Once her companions were several meters away, she ran quickly through the barrier. Luckily for her, the platform was surprisingly empty and she didn't inadvertently crash into anyone. Without so much as taking time to enjoy the sight of the scarlet steam engine that was the Hogwarts Express or fellow students, Hermione quickly went to put her things away. Almost instantly, a Hufflepuff prefect informed her that the Heads and prefects were to report to the Head Cabin for a meeting. Nodding her understanding, she grabbed both her carry-on and Crookshanks' carrier.

Entering the train, and walking towards her destination, Hermione saw Ron, Ginny and Harry pass through the barrier consecutively. Though nothing short of a miracle, they were able to avoid crashing into each other. Hermione allowed herself a fleeting smile before opening the door to the cabin. Inside, already sat the prefects and Professor McGonagal.

"Morning," she addressed everyone before taking a seat next to the window. At the same time, the door opened and in stepped the Head Boy. He nodded to everyone present before taking a seat across from her.

"Now that everyone is present," began the esteemed professor, "Let us begin."

The meeting consisted of informing them of upcoming events; how to deal with students; the regulations of awarding and deducting house points; and the expectations for upholding amiable relationships with each other. At some point through the conversation, Hermione took to looking out the window, keeping one ear to the discussion.

"All right," McGonagal said standing up, "I expect that everyone will follow through with these rules. The train leaves in fifteen minutes. Prefects, please go and help any students outside."

In an instant, the cabin was empty, leaving the Heads in silence. Both were doing an excellent job in ignoring on another. Resting her head on the wall, Hermione closed her eyes. Some time later, she heard the quite rustle of clothes and soon after, the opening and closing of the door. 

When she finally opened her eyes, she was greeted with the sight of fast moving scenery. Deciding that she'd fallen asleep, Hermione carefully rose and stretched. Realizing that Crookshanks was still in his carrier, she quickly released him, mumbling an apology. She then took the opportunity to change into her pristine black school robes. When the door opened, she was adjusting her badge. The Head Boy stood in the doorway, already dressed. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, and his legs slightly apart. She was slightly surprised that there was no snarky comment but naturally hid it. Both stood there, assessing one another in silence. He finally took several confident steps in and took a seat.

_Whatever_, she thought. Deciding that she needed to leave the accursed place, she made a move to leave, but stopped in her tracks. At the far end of the train, a compartment door opened and from within could be heard several familiar voices. If she had any doubts as to who the speakers were, they were instantly extinguished as out stepped two people. Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley.

"We'll be back, Gin," Ron said, looking towards the compartment, "Just going to look for Hermione."

"You did see her, right?" Harry asked quietly when Ron closed the door.

"Yea," came Ron's monosyllabic response. From a little over six years of friendship, Harry could easy tell that there was more to that simple answer than Ron let on. For the moment, Harry decided to let the matter pass, opting in taking a step towards the Head's cabin instead.

Hermione quickly shut the door at Harry's movement, causing the cabin's other occupant to turn to look at her. He raised an eyebrow at her and grinned slightly at her slightly panicked expression.

"What pray tell, has got your knickers in a bunch?" he drawled out.

"Sod off, Malfoy!" she hissed.

"Oh, come on." 

"Just mind your own business," she told him coldly.

Raising an eyebrow, he turned to look out the window, but not before giving her a smirk to tell her he wasn't doing it for her. No sooner had he turned when he heard several knocks on the door, followed by an annoyingly familiar voice.

"Oi, Hermione are you inside?" called none other than Harry Potter.

"It's us," chimed in Weasel.

Draco was highly amused at Granger's reaction to the callings of her friends. She was leaning against the door with her eyes closed.

"Are you actually _avoiding_ Potter and Weasel?" he asked in amusement. 

"Just-just be quiet will you?" she responded in a dull and resigned voice.

Draco blinked at her unexpected response. Considering their history, he had expected a fiery and sarcastic comeback; but not this. For the second time in their presence, Draco Malfoy was speechless. Taking his silence, regardless as to how it came to be, as a chance to compose herself, Hermione took a deep breath. She then plastered a fake smile, opened the door and stepped outside to join her friends.

"Hey guys, how are you?"

"Fine, and you?" Harry asked, giving her a hug.

"Same here."

"Good to know, Ron said, giving her a hug as well.

"So, how was your summer?" Harry asked.

"Fine," she said a bit to quickly, luckily neither boy noticed, "Hey, I'm famished, what say you we get ourselves some sweets?"

"Um, sure, why not," Ron answered.

The three friends left in search of the sweets cart, chatting idly about this and that. They were never aware of the inquisitive gray eyes coming from the slightly open door from which they'd left. Draco Malfoy took a seat once again, but this time, his mind was filled with what had just transpired. A sudden movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. It was Granger's cat, flicking its orange tail now and then; its amber-hued eyes fixed on him. He smirked at the creature, returning the stare.

"Just what's wrong with the mudblood?" he voiced some time later.

The cat narrowed its eyes and let out a hiss.


End file.
